A Sheep in New York
by jublke
Summary: Danny Messer takes care of his friend Ryan Wolfe after Ryan is attacked by the Russians. Spoilers for CSI Miami 7x20, Wolfe in Sheep's Clothing. Set just after CSI: Miami 7x20 and CSI: New York 5x20. Rated T for swearing, references to violence.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own _CSI: Miami_ or _CSI: New York_. If I did, I'd have had them crossover more often.

This story occurs right after 7x20 on _CSI: Miami_ and after 5X20 on _CSI: New York_. Any errors are mine - I don't have a beta for my crossovers yet. Feel free to write me about anything that deviates from canon.

In general, I write all of my stories so they can fit together. This one is definitely a stand-alone, but maybe I'll write more stories in this crossover AU. I'm hoping to get a couple more chapters up before this one is over - we'll see!

* * *

Danny Messer fought to lift his heavy eyelids. He'd fallen asleep on the couch again - it was hard to sleep in his bed without Montana there - and he'd given himself a crick in the neck. He was wondering what might have awakened him when he heard the noise again - a quiet but persistent knocking on the front door of his apartment.

"Who the hell could that be?" Danny grumbled to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in all directions, and wondered aloud where he'd left his glasses. Now that he'd started wearing contacts, he didn't think about his glasses too much - not like before, when he'd always placed them right beside wherever he'd laid his head for the night.

There was a hesitation in the knocking before it resumed, more persistent than before. Danny flicked on a lamp and squinted around the corners of his apartment. "Hold ya horses, I'm comin'," he groused.

After locating his glasses and putting them on with a practiced hand, Danny glanced at the nearest clock. It was nearly one in the morning. Who would be at his door this late? Flack had a key - if he got frustrated enough, he'd just let himself in. Stella, maybe?

A glimpse out the peephole showed a young man nearly identical in height to himself wearing a Boston University sweatshirt and jeans, head bowed, with an arm curled protectively around his stomach. A duffle bag sat at his feet. From the angle, Danny had no idea who the guy was, but he didn't appear threatening. Lost maybe.

He flung the door open. "Hey, buddy, I think you've got the wrong -"

Pain-filled hazel eyes met his, and Danny swallowed the rest of his words. He could see ligature marks around the other man's neck. The bruises were purple, which told Danny that the attack had likely occurred before the man had left home. He travelled a long way in pain then, Danny thought. His friend's eyes closed as the brunette let out a strangled groan.

"My God, Ryan," Danny whispered. He grabbed the duffle and tossed his friend's luggage just inside the front door before throwing an arm around the trembling man and propelling him to the sofa. Once Ryan was safely deposited in his apartment, the blond wrapped his arms around his waist and bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting impatiently for him to regain some composure.

Eventually the dark-haired man opened his eyes. "Hey." His voice was raspy.

Danny shook his head. "Lemme get you some water and you can tell me what the hell happened to you." He brought Ryan a glass of ice water and sat beside the younger man as he drank it. "Did they follow you here? You need police protection?"

Ryan shook his head. "I don't think so." He handed the empty glass back to Danny. "I didn't know where else to go," he admitted. Wincing, he tried to shift into a more comfortable position on the sofa. Danny noticed and frowned.

"You hurt bad?" He didn't really have to ask.

Ryan gave him a pained expression. "It's worse than it looks."

Danny cocked an eyebrow.

"I mean," Ryan quickly corrected in a strained voice, "It's not as bad as it looks." He gave the New Yorker a false smile, which only increased the number of creases in Danny's forehead.

"You've been to a doctor, right?" Danny asked, fingering his cell phone in the front pocket of his sweats. He wasn't surprised when Ryan shook his head no. If anyone with an ounce of medical training had examined him, they wouldn't have let him out of Miami.

"Okay, I'm gonna get my friend Hawkes over here to check you out, all right?"

Ryan nodded and closed his eyes. Danny couldn't tell for sure, but he thought he saw a tear streak down his friend's face. What in the hell had happened to him?

Danny began to pace around the coffee table in his living room. "Hey, Hawkes, listen, I've got a friend over here and he's hurt pretty bad." At Sheldon's questions, Danny replied, "I'm not sure what happened yet, but I know he was beaten and strangled." When Sheldon said he'd be right over, Danny smiled for the first time since Ryan had arrived at his apartment. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."

Silencing the cell phone, Danny walked over to where Ryan sat, motionless, on his sofa. "Ry, Hawkes is gonna be here soon. I'm gonna get my kit and my camera so I can process you before he gets here, okay?"

At this, Ryan lifted his head. "You don't need to process me. We caught the guy. H shot him."

Danny nodded reluctantly. Something wasn't adding up. "So, Horatio knows someone did this to you?" He couldn't keep the incredulous tone out of his voice. If anyone had beaten him up like that, Mac wouldn't have let him leave the hospital, much less the state.

Ryan sighed. "He knows I was held hostage. And that the Russians kidnapped Billy. That's all that matters."

"Billy? Who's Billy?"

"My Gamblers Anonymous sponsor's son." The dark-haired man gave him a sad smile.

"The kid's okay, right?"

Ryan nodded.

Danny cocked an eyebrow at this but didn't say anything. He and Ryan had been friends for a few years now, ever since they had attended a training seminar together. But their friendship only ran so deep. There was a lot that Danny didn't know about the CSI from Miami. He chewed his left knuckle, lost in thought, and his wedding ring caught in the dim light of the lamp.

"When did you get married?" Before Danny could answer, Ryan started to get up, wincing as he did so. "Danny, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I shouldn't have come -"

The wild-haired blond sliced the air with both hands. "You stop that. Sit back down there. My wife's visiting her family in Montana. You ain't interruptin' nothin'."

"Lindsay, right?" Ryan asked, as he eased himself back down on the couch.

Danny smiled. "Yeah. We're having a baby. A baby girl."

Ryan's face finally reflected something other than pain. "Congratulations, Danny."

It was only then that the blond noticed the gap in his friend's smile. "You missin' a tooth, too?" he asked. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the scab on the other's lower lip.

Ryan swallowed and pressed his lips together. He nodded.

Danny sat down next to him again. "Man, they really did a number on you, didn't they?" He reached out to touch his friend's arm. Ryan flinched at the contact before relaxing into his touch. This time, Danny clearly saw a tear slide from his eye before Ryan could stop it.

Fisting his free hand, Danny shook his head slowly. "Bastards." He blew out a breath in frustration before he wrapped a gentle arm around the other man's shoulders. Danny still didn't understand why his young friend had travelled so many miles to see him when he had an entire police department in Miami to help.

But he knew one thing. "You're safe here, Ry. No one else's gonna hurt ya. I got your back." He gave his friend a gentle squeeze. "Couch is open, 'cept when me and Donny wanna watch the game. You can stay here as long as you want."


	2. Chapter 2

Not mine, don't own. If I've mischaracterized my boys in any way, please let me know, since I don't have a beta for my crossovers. I'm only borrowing them because I think they could use the emotional support. :) I'm not a doctor, but I am treating Ryan way better than the writers did regardless. I'm hoping to write at least one more chapter. Thanks for reading!

* * *

"Danny, you need to take him to a hospital." Hawkes removed his reading glasses and stethoscope and shoved them into his medical bag. "He needs to have that tooth socket cleaned out and packed properly before he develops dry socket." Sheldon stood up from the end of the sofa and joined Danny, who was staring unhappily at the young brunette sprawled on his couch.

"Can't that wait until tomorrow, Doc?" Danny fingered the police camera hanging from a strap around his neck, the one he'd used to document all of Ryan's injuries - just in case - while Hawkes was assessing them. "He's been through so much already."

Sheldon sighed. "You wanted my professional opinion, Danny, and I'm giving it to you. Right now, your friend is dehydrated and at risk of infection. I'd recommend a course of intravenous antibiotics along with IV fluids. I can't rule out internal injury without a scan. I'm sure he's got at least two cracked ribs." The doctor put a hand on Danny's shoulder. "Whoever did this wasn't messing around. He's lucky he's got a friend like you to take care of him."

Danny grimaced. "He ain't gonna be none too happy when I throw him in a cab and haul him to Trinity."

"Why don't you let me drive you?"

Danny nodded at Sheldon and approached his injured friend. "Ryan," he said gently, shaking the man's shoulder.

The brunette jerked upright, eyes wide with fear, and tried unsuccessfully to stand. "Billy?" he exclaimed, voice tinged with panic. "Where's Billy?" A coughing jag set him back.

Danny knelt beside him. "Billy is safe now, Ryan, and you're safe too." He waited until the frantic hazel eyes rested on his blue ones before continuing. "But we need to get you to the hospital."

Ryan moaned. "No, no hospital. I don't need a doctor. I just want to sleep."

Sheldon pushed his way past Danny and into Ryan's line of sight. "Ryan, my name is Sheldon Hawkes. I'm a doctor and I'm a friend of Danny's. I took a look at your injuries. You were so exhausted that you slept through most of my exam."

Ryan squinted at the earnest man with the short cropped hair. Doubt clouded the injured man's features.

"You need to go to the hospital, Ryan. The hole left by your tooth extraction is showing signs of infection. I want you on intravenous antibiotics. You also need an abdominal ultrasound to rule out any internal organ damage. You've got at least two cracked ribs on your right side." Sheldon steadily looked at Ryan until the latter nodded.

Defeat was audible in Ryan's voice when he replied. "Okay."

* * *

Ryan woke to the sound of someone on the phone. After a panicked moment of staring at the four white walls in consternation, he realized that he was in Danny Messer's bedroom. Danny must have given him the bed and slept on the couch. There was a hospital bracelet encircling his left wrist and a wad of damp gauze in the back of his mouth where his molar had been extracted. Two pill bottles sat on the nightstand; one contained an opioid pain medication while the other held antibiotics. There was a fresh bandage on his upper right arm.

Splotchy images dotted his memory: riding in the back seat of Sheldon's car and trying not to throw up, a nurse holding his head and injecting a shot into his mouth, the puncture of an IV drip, flinching when cold gel hit his abdomen before the ultrasound. And then there had been a man with short-cropped dark hair and intense green eyes standing with Danny at Ryan's bedside, asking questions that Ryan couldn't answer. Why had he come to New York? Why hadn't he told anyone in Miami where he was headed? Was he safe?

I didn't want to be alone, Ryan had whispered, and the knot between the dark-haired man's eyes had deepened.

"I dunno, Mac. I ain't pushin' him. If he don't wanna go back to Miami, he can stay here with me and Linds for awhile." Danny's voice cut through Ryan's thoughts, and Ryan abruptly remembered that the dark-haired man in the hospital was named Mac. Why did that name sound familiar?

Ryan blinked and shook his head. His mind was full of cobwebs and his eyes felt gritty, the way they always did when he slept with his contacts in. I should get up, Ryan thought. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he was startled at how woozy he felt. And his legs ... Where are my jeans? he wondered. He was dressed in grey sweats and a Yankees jersey.

"Messer! What's the meaning of this?" Ryan said as he rose to standing. The head rush nearly knocked him flat. Luckily, Danny burst in, still holding the phone, and gave Ryan a steadying hand.

"I'll do that. You call me when he gets in, okay?" Danny ended the call and slid the phone into the pocket of his jeans as he turned his attention to Ryan. "Hey, there, Sleepin' Beauty. It's about time you woke up." He gave his friend a warm smile. Ryan noticed Danny had showered and shaved, and was wearing a fresh button down shirt.

Ryan tugged at the cotton jersey as Danny led him to the kitchen table. "What is this?"

Danny shrugged as he took a chair next to Ryan. "Thought you'd be more comfortable. Wearing the right team and all."

Ryan grinned at him, but the gesture triggered pain from the extraction. "Ow." He held a hand up to his jaw.

"That tooth botherin' you, buddy?" Danny's eyebrows knotted in worry.

The brunette shook his head. "No more than before." He swallowed and looked away.

"Ryan, we gotta talk." Danny looked at his friend apologetically. "I know you don't wanna relive what happened, but we got a problem." Ryan regarded the blond warily. "Some things just ain't addin' up."

Ryan folded in upon himself, crossing his arms and legs protectively. "What do you want to know?" He nervously chewed his lower lip, causing the scab there to open. Danny handed him a paper towel and Ryan dabbed at the cut.

"Why did you hide your injuries from your team?" Danny's voice was gentle.

"Who says I did?" Anger laced through Ryan's voice, along with an undercut of fear.

"You showed up here, a day after having been beaten, with no medical care. Hawkes told me. You couldn't have been assessed in the field or you'd have been in the ER down in Miami instead of up here."

"I didn't think I was hurt that -"

"Cut the crap, Ryan! You came to me lookin' for help but I can't help you if you won't talk to me!" Danny stood and started pacing around his apartment. "What the hell happened down there? Your boss is flyin' up from Miami right now and if he did this to you, so help me God -"

"I did this to me, okay? It's my fault." Ryan's eyes flared as he stood to meet Danny's stare. Belatedly, he remembered why the name Mac was familiar. Mac was Danny's boss; Horatio and Mac were friends, damn it. "I've ruined everything that matters. Horatio had nothing to do with this."

"Then why -"

"I was embarrassed, all right? I'm a cop and I let those guys jump me. They tortured me and then, when I wouldn't give them what they wanted, they took Billy."

"Your sponsor's kid?"

"Yes! And I even screwed up choosing my sponsor because they only came after me because Mark owed them money. I took over his debt so he and Billy could have a new life. That kid means everything to me! I'm his godfather. You have no idea -"

Danny sank into a chair at his kitchen table, head in one hand. "I have an idea." The words were cold.

"Then you know I was desperate! I couldn't let them kill Billy, I just couldn't. They asked me to compromise a crime scene and I did. I tampered with evidence. I contaminated the crime scene!" Ryan was shouting by now. "I lifted fingerprints from an innocent man and introduced them as evidence!" His voice dropped, filled with anguish. "I compromised every one of my ethical principles as a CSI and I'd do it again so that little boy could live."

Ryan collapsed into the chair next to Danny, his hazel eyes glittery, his brows knotted. In a low voice, he added, "But now, I have to live with what I've done. Horatio doesn't want to know anything. If I document an injury like this, IAB will be all over it. Under inquiry, I'd lose my job." He dropped his head into his hands. "And maybe I should. Calleigh and Eric don't even know half of what I did and they hate me. They practically threw me out of the lab yesterday."

Danny focused his gaze on Ryan. "But they don't know you were tortured. For, like what, twelve straight hours, Ryan? They don't know what you went through to save that little boy."

Ryan nodded sadly. "No, they don't. But I doubt they'd believe me now." He rubbed a hand down his face, feeling the roughness of stubble, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Danny. I shouldn't have dumped all of this on you. I just didn't know where else to go."

Danny reached a hand out and clamped it on Ryan's lower arm. "I'm glad you came." He made sure to meet Ryan's eyes. "You did right by that kid."

"Then why does it feel so wrong?" Ryan whispered.

Danny's eyes flared. "You think you'd feel better if you done everything by the book and that kid died? Lemme tell you right now, that's hell to live with too." The blond pulled away and began to pace, eyes watery.

Ryan squinted at Danny with a frown, but he didn't say anything. After a long silence, Danny spoke again, his voice unsteady. "Ruben was my neighbor. He was my friend, my little buddy. He used to come over here sometimes and just hang out. He was a good kid." The older CSI gave a wistful smile. "So, one day, he wanted to get his bike blessed at the local Catholic Church, you know, for safe journeys and all that. And I -" Danny took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I took him. He and I, comin' back, we walked right into the middle of a shooting at a bodega. And I -" Danny stopped again as his voice cracked, and Ryan gave him a sympathetic smile. "I did what I was trained to do, you know?" He shook his head. "I followed the perp instead of the kid. I put the job ahead of him." The blond swallowed, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head. "I made the wrong choice," he said, softly.

Ryan gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry, Danny."

"Me, too. But what can I do? Nothing I do will ever bring that kid back. I used to sit on top of the roof of this building, thinking what it'd be like if I jumped." Danny folded his arms over his stomach and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"What got you through it?" Ryan asked, intently.

"My friends and my job."

Ryan's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Then I'm in a lot of trouble."


	3. Chapter 3

Still not mine, still don't own - although Ryan may be wishing I'd give him back about now.

My thanks to everyone who's faved or followed. I should have at least one more chapter.

* * *

The apartment was dim, blinds drawn. Only the flickering of a television set indicated life. Danny took a sip from a can of soda and grimaced. Since he'd taken the day off to babysit Ryan, it would have been nice to kick back and have a beer, but he didn't quite feel right about doing that when Ryan was still so vulnerable. He glanced at the young man beside him. Even at rest, the Miami CSI's brows were knotted and he appeared deeply troubled.

Ryan didn't stir when Danny's cell phone sounded. "Messer." He listened intently to the caller before replying. "Okay, Mac. We'll be there as soon as we can."

Danny set the soda aside and nudged the man sprawled on the sofa beside him. "Ryan."

"Huh?" The brunette woke with a puzzled expression and ran a hand down his face. "I fell asleep again?"

Danny chuckled. "Game wasn't that good, anyway. I'll cut ya some slack this time since you're doped up on pain meds." His voice sobered. "Mac just picked Horatio up at the airport, Ryan. They want to meet us at the lab and talk this thing out." He walked into his bedroom and grabbed Ryan's medication from the nightstand.

He entered the living room to find Ryan with folded arms and lowered brows, shaking his head. "There's nothing to talk about. I don't know why H followed me up here." Ryan began to chew his lower lip, but stopped short when his teeth touched the scab.

"Mac called him when you were still in the ER," Danny explained. "They were thinkin' about admittin' you. He told Mac he'd be up as soon as he could get away." Danny pulled another can of Sprite from his refrigerator.

"Yeah, well, I'm fine now." Ryan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the sofa.

Danny made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Right. That's why you're taking all these meds." He handed his friend the can of soda, along with the two pill bottles. His voice dropped. "You were screamin' in your sleep last night about pliers and duct tape."

Ryan's head lifted and he tried to give Danny an angry stare, but there was no malice in the older man's expression, only compassion. Ryan sighed and popped open the first pill bottle. He took the antibiotic with a swig of soda, but hesitated when it came to the pain medication. Danny could sympathize with his friend. Ryan wanted - needed - to be clear-headed to deal with all of this, but it wouldn't help matters any if his pain level spiraled out of control.

"Maybe you could take half a dose for now," Danny suggested. Startled, Ryan nodded before complying. He set the soda aside and put his head in his hands. "God, I feel like shit," the younger CSI mumbled.

Danny shifted his weight from foot to foot, watching his friend with concern. "Ry, you need to tell Horatio what happened to you. If nothin' else, to keep anyone else on your team from havin' to go through something like that alone. What if it had been Calleigh who was abducted?"

Ryan didn't look up. "She was once. And everyone dropped everything to look for her until she was found."

Danny sat next to the battered CSI. "Well, your team's looking for you now," he said, handing Ryan a cell phone. "Found that on the dresser last night and thought I'd charge it for you while you were sleeping. Thing's been ringin' and pingin' nonstop."

Ryan took the phone, keyed in his passcode, and began scrolling through his texts and missed calls. Sighing, he placed the phone into a pocket of his borrowed sweats.

"You ain't gonna answer none of them?"

The younger man shook his head slowly. "I ... I don't know what to say. I got hurt, I panicked, I broke protocol, and then I walked off the job." He looked at Danny. "How can I possibly answer for that?" He stared at his hands. "Maybe I should just stay here."

"You know I'd vouch for ya," Danny said, nodding. "We could always use another good CSI at the lab. Budget's tight, but Mac'd find a way to keep you. But you gotta sort things with Horatio first, Ryan. You gotta answer for what you did." At his friend's pained expression, Danny pressed on. "And first thing you gotta do is quit blaming yourself for what happened. You keep saying that you did this to yourself, that you got yourself hurt." He shook his head. "That's a load of BS and you know it." He gently poked Ryan's ribs. "You didn't do that. You're a victim here, Ryan, whether you like it or not." Standing up, he added, "Come on. We gotta go meet Mac and Horatio."

Ryan tugged at the wrinkled Yankees jersey and frowned. "I definitely need to change first."

Danny laughed. "No, you don't."

* * *

Danny punched the button to the 35th floor while Ryan stood alongside him, fidgeting. His expression was one that the New York CSI had come to identify as Ryan trying very hard to hold his emotions in check. Danny cleared his throat. "You ready for this, Wolfe?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Ryan replied, picking imaginary lint from the wrinkled Yankees jersey. "I can't believe I let you talk me into wearing this in public."

Danny's blue eyes narrowed. "You talkin' smack about my Yankees?"

Ryan blinked at him before Danny clamped a hand on his elbow and smiled. "Relax, Ryan. I'm just givin' you hell."

Ryan folded his arms. "Yeah, like I need more of that." He rubbed his forehead with one hand and licked his lips. "You do have a vending machine up there somewhere, right?"

"Yeah," Danny replied as they stepped off the elevator. After a stop in the break room to get Ryan a bottle of water, they began to thread their way through the corridors of the New York Crime Lab.

The younger man gawped at the glass walls. "And I thought our lab was big." He paused by a room full of computer and technology equipment. A bearded young man wearing earbuds was seated, entering data into a computer, singing slightly off-key. He looked up when he realized that he was being watched, frowning at Ryan, but smiled when he saw that the young man in the Yankees jersey was with Danny. He stood up and walked toward them.

"Hey, Danny."

"Adam, this is my friend Ryan Wolfe from Miami. Ryan, this is Adam Ross, AV tech and all-around computer guru." The two men shook hands.

"Nice threads you got there," Adam quipped with a grin. Ryan rolled his eyes as Danny smirked. In a low voice, the tech added, "Bossman's waitin' for you. Conference room 3."

"Thanks, man," Danny replied.

"He didn't look too happy," Adam confided. "Came in here with some red-headed guy and they looked all worked up about something."

"That would be me," Ryan said with a sigh, picking more imaginary lint from his sleeves.

Danny shoved him forward. "C'mon, Miami, let's get this over with."

Adam shook his head as the two walked down the hall. "Montana, Miami. I wonder why I'm not Arizona or why Mac isn't Chicago?" he mumbled to himself. "Maybe he likes the letter M. M for Messer, that's got to be it." The tech's rambling monologue faded as the two CSI's walked down the hall.

"Does he always talk to himself like that?" Ryan asked in a low voice.

"Pretty much," Danny replied. At Ryan's quirked eyebrow, he added, "Adam's a good guy. You get used to him."

The door to the conference room, when they finally arrived, was closed. Danny poked his head in. "You ready for us?"

"Come in, Danny."

Danny held open the door for his colleague, but Ryan stood in the hallway, rigid, with his eyes closed, as if bracing for impact. Danny poked him until his eyes popped open. "You got this, Ryan," he whispered. "And I ain't goin' nowhere unless you tell me to."

Ryan nodded. Dipping his head, he walked in.

Mac quirked an eyebrow at Danny. Without saying a word, he asked how Ryan was, how Danny was, and if Danny understood this whole mess.

Danny shrugged and waved a hand back and forth, as if to say, he's as good as can be expected. I know some things but not everything. He used a sidelong glance at Ryan to add, I'm worried about him, Mac.

Mac nodded.

Horatio stood and faced his underling, wearing an impeccably tailored black suit with a white dress shirt, face unreadable as usual. "Hello, Mr. Wolfe."

Ryan folded his arms and stared across the conference table at his boss. "H." He gave the man a curt nod.

Danny and Mac traded glances. Danny suspected that Mac, like himself, was on the verge of rolling his eyes.

Mac cleared his throat. "Ryan, Horatio, let's sit down." Mac chose the head of the large table, with Horatio sitting near him on one side. Danny and Ryan sat side by side opposite Horatio. "I've asked you here today to see if Danny and I can help you two work through what appears to be a serious breakdown in communication. Just so you both know, what is said in this room will be held confidential."

Horatio looked at Mac. "Is this room secure?"

Mac nodded at him. "This is one of our war rooms."

"Seems appropriate," Ryan muttered, and Danny kicked him under the table.

"What was that, Mr. Wolfe?" Horatio had fixed his intense blue stare on Ryan, and Danny, seated next to him, shuddered. I would not like to be on the receiving end of that, he thought.

Mac cleared his throat again. "I think we should begin with a factual account of what led to this point. Ryan, would you begin?"

The brunette CSI shook his head, jutting his chin defiantly. "Horatio knows," he said, in a soft but clear voice.

Mac glanced at Horatio, who spoke up. "I've had a chance to thoroughly examine the evidence in our last case, Mr. Wolfe. And that does not -" Horatio paused, "look good for you." He stared calmly at Ryan. "And then you left for New York ... without informing me or anyone else on our team of your whereabouts," Horatio recounted. "I know you haven't been returning calls or texts. What I don't know-" the redhead paused dramatically, "is why you were in the hospital."

Ryan just stared at Horatio and pursed his lips.

"Ryan," Danny hissed, but it did no good. Ryan simply folded his arms across his middle and set his face like flint. But if he didn't explain himself soon, Danny knew, Ryan might be out of a job.

Watching Ryan's face redden and twitch, Danny had a sudden realization. He doesn't know how to say it without breaking down in front of his boss. He's afraid he's gonna cry.

Danny thought of the night he had stood outside of the hospital sobbing in Mac's arms, the night after Louie had been beaten so severely he almost died. He had been beyond grateful for Mac's concern.

Was Horatio really that much of a hard ass? Maybe it was time to find out.

"Ryan was abducted by the Russian mob and tortured for twelve straight hours."

"Danny," Ryan warned.

"They strapped him to a chair using duct tape. They punched him so hard and so often that he has two cracked ribs and he's takin' Percocet for the pain." Danny's voice grew louder with each detail.

"Danny." Ryan was standing by this point, fisting his hands.

The blond CSI stood to match him. He focused on Ryan's troubled hazel eyes as he continued. "And then those bastards tore out one of his molars using rusted pliers! He never gave in, not once. But then they abducted his godson."

Ryan closed his eyes and shuddered.

At this series of revelations, Horatio and Mac walked quickly around the table to flank their subordinates.

"Ryan, is that true?" Horatio asked, his voice faltering slightly. He reached for Ryan's shoulder.

The young CSI didn't answer, but he shrugged the hand away. Opening his eyes to slits, he glared at Danny and hissed softly, "How could you do this? I thought I could trust you."

Danny shook his head. "I'm not lettin' you take the fall for this, Ryan. Whatever happened after that, it was because you were messed up from bein' used as a punchin' bag. Your team and your boss -" He shot a telling glance at Horatio - "Shoulda been there for you, Ryan. You're gonna need help to get through this. I don't care if you hate me right now. I ain't lettin' you do this alone."

Ryan swallowed, painfully. "I need some air." He moved for the door.

"I'll escort him," Mac said, and both Danny and Horatio nodded sadly. Things were not going well.


	4. Chapter 4

Poor Ryan. Lots of angst in this chapter.

Note: I am not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV. If I have medically mistreated Mr. Wolfe, feel free to let me know in the comments.

My thanks to everyone who has faved and/or followed. It means a lot. There should be at least one more chapter. I can't leave Ryan like this!

Not mine, don't own. I suspect that Ryan is happy about this at the moment.

* * *

Mac was escorting Ryan down the hall, leading him to a quieter part of the lab, when the young man spoke.

"Rest room?" he asked.

Mac nodded. "This way." He guided Ryan down another corridor and nodded at him once more when they arrived. "I'll wait for you here," Mac said, leaning against the wall just outside of the men's room.

Ryan felt like he was five again, but he recognized that Mac did need to escort him - his visitor's badge would only get him so far. He pushed into the room, feeling grateful for a moment of solitude.

After using the bathroom, Ryan stood in front of the mirror washing and rewashing his hands. The ritual was comforting, and he could almost forget about the nightmare that was unfolding around him. Almost.

The purple welts encircling his neck were only partially hidden by the jersey he wore. Ryan touched the bruises gently. This hurt more than expected, and the sudden pain brought memories surging to the forefront: the feel of a plastic cord tight against his neck, the dank smell of the old sugar refinery, the snap of his neck when a fist hit his jaw, a taste of blood.

Involuntarily, he opened his mouth to look at the tooth extraction site. The blood-tinged wad of gauze made him think of Danny's words: "And then those bastards tore out one of his molars using rusted pliers!" He began to rinse his mouth out over and over. Just the thought of rust, of such filth, inside his mouth was overwhelming. He needed to get clean.

His OCD went into overdrive, leading him to rinse and spit repeatedly. But nothing seemed to help. He could still taste metal. As Ryan began to feel faint, he wet some paper towels and scrubbed at his cheeks. He couldn't get clean. He would never be clean again. Bile began to rise in his throat until it consumed his thoughts and he was rushing back to a stall to vomit away the memories.

* * *

"Ryan?"

"Ryan!"

The young man in question didn't realize that Mac Taylor had entered the bathroom until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Mac knelt down to meet Ryan at eye level in front of one stall, where he found the younger man seated on the floor, curled into a ball, breathing heavily with his eyes wide.

Pulling out his cell phone, Mac never took a hand off of the trembling young man. "Danny! Get Horatio down here. Bathroom near the back entrance. Call Hawkes for me." He patted Ryan on the shoulder. "Talk to me, Ryan. What's going on?"

The young man appeared dazed, but managed to focus on Mac. "Can't ... breathe," he wheezed out. He continued to tremble violently.

Mac placed the tips of three fingers on Ryan's nearest wrist. Pulse was definitely elevated. He did a quick inventory: Ryan's pupils were slightly dilated, his skin clammy, cheeks flushed. He appeared to be going into shock.

"Ryan, I'd like to move you out of that stall, all right?" With Mac's help, Ryan soon found himself propped against the far wall of the bathroom, slumped against the cold tile. Mac draped his dark suit jacket over the trembling form. "Help's on the way, Ryan," he said, rising to stand guard over the fallen CSI.

Ryan nodded, images of bloodied sugar and mangled body parts filling his mind. I can't get warm, he thought. Why can't I get warm?

The door opened and three people entered at once. Horatio and Sheldon both rushed to Ryan, one dropping on either side of him. Danny hesitated in the doorway, folding his arms at his waist, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"What's happening, Mac?" Sheldon asked, kneeling at Ryan's side. He pulled out his stethoscope and started to listen to Ryan's heart and lungs.

Before Mac could answer, Horatio replied with surety, "He's having a panic attack." The redhead grabbed both of Ryan's hands and held them in his own. "Look at me, Ryan." When the young man complied, he added in a gentle tone, "You're safe here. I need you to slow down your breathing, Ryan. Focus on your breathing. That's it. Look at me. Breathe with me."

There was near silence in the bathroom as four men concentrated on Ryan's breathing, while the fifth completed a quick medical exam.

"Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. Good," Horatio said.

After a few minutes, there was a noticeable drop in the rate at which Ryan was panting. Danny sighed in relief. Dropping his arms to his sides, he leaned against the nearest wall.

Hawkes held a thermometer to Ryan's ear and frowned. Nodding, he removed his stethoscope. "Bilateral breath sounds. His lungs are clear. Normal heart rhythm. He's running a fever, though, which I don't like." As Horatio continued to divert the patient's attention with breathing exercises, Hawkes asked the room at large, "Does anyone know what medications he's currently taking?"

"Percocet and some antibiotic," Danny replied. "I don't know his regular meds, though." He folded his arms and met Mac's gaze. His boss came to stand by him in the doorway, giving the other two men more room to work on their patient.

Sheldon caught Horatio's eye, and the redhead gave a slight nod. "Ryan," Horatio said, calmly and slowly. "The doctor here -"

"Hawkes," Sheldon supplied.

"Doctor Hawkes needs to know if you're taking any other medications."

With four men staring at him, Ryan's frantic eyes flitted from Danny and Mac in the doorway, to Horatio and Hawkes at either side of him, before settling on the redhead. He shrugged, panting heavily again. "I think ... I think I'm gonna ... pass out," Ryan got out. Hawkes and Horatio lowered him so that he was lying flat. Horatio pillowed his suit jacket under Ryan's head and rearranged Mac's jacket on top of him.

Hawkes looked at Horatio. "I'd like to administer a sedative to calm him, but I need to be sure we don't make things any worse."

Horatio nodded. "Mr. Wolfe," he ordered loudly, and Ryan's eyes popped open. "Mr. Wolfe, I need you to list your medications. Now."

Danny leaned forward at the harsh tone, but Mac grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"H?" Ryan replied, weakly.

"Yes, Mr. Wolfe. Your regular medications. This is time critical."

"Just ... just some allergy stuff," he panted. "And Zoloft sometimes ... when my OCD acts up." Ryan looked at Danny. "What did ... they give me ... at the hospital?"

"We got that already," Danny replied. He gave Ryan a sad smile.

Hawkes nodded and prepared the shot. "This might sting a bit, Ryan."

"Look at me, Mr. Wolfe. Breathe in. Breathe out. Good."


	5. Chapter 5

My sincere thanks to heidi black 14 for the review. :) Glad you are liking it. It's always nice to know that someone is reading along at home.

Still not mine; still don't own. I only own the errors in the text, sadly.

I'm planning at least one more chapter. If you see any continuity or canon errors, or if you know both shows & want to beta future stories, let me know. Thanks!

* * *

Danny Messer paced the halls of the New York Crime Lab, lost in thought. He couldn't get the image of Ryan Wolfe's face out of his mind: ashen, panicked, broken by the Russian mob. Hawkes had insisted that Ryan return to Trinity for more tests; he had driven Mac, Horatio, and Ryan over to the hospital. Danny had stayed behind - four people in Sheldon's car would be cramped enough. He had expected that leaving Ryan in the hands of two highly capable police officers and one meticulous CSI, complete with a medical degree, would ease his worry. But he still felt restless and unsettled, unable to concentrate on anything. Ryan's duffel bag was back at his apartment. How could he get that over to Ryan when the Miami CSI had no desire to see him? Ryan's last words to Danny kept echoing through the New Yorker's mind: _"How could you do this? I thought I could trust you."_

"Danny?"

It took Danny a few minutes to realize that he had walked down to the A/V lab. From the expression on Adam's face, the tech must have been calling to him for some time.

"Hey, Adam." Danny put on a false smile as Adam walked over. As the tech drew closer, the blond folded his arms across his waist and began to rock back and forth from the toes of his tennis shoes to his heels and back.

"You okay?" Adam asked in his soft, gentle way. He glanced around the empty hallways. It was after dark now and the night shift only maintained a skeletal crew. "Where's Ryan?"

Danny blinked. "Ryan, ah, he's -" His blue eyes met Adam's concerned gaze before flicking away. "He's gonna be fine, Adam."

"Then why are you rubbing your hand like that?" Adam whispered.

Danny looked down to find that his co-worker was right. His arms were no longer crossed - he was rhythmically rubbing circles over the knuckles of his left hand, right over the surgical scars. He dropped both of his arms self-consciously and stared at the younger man. "Wha -? How -?" he stuttered.

Adam lowered his eyes and tipped his head to one side before regaining his courage and looking Danny straight in the eyes. "You do that whenever something reminds you of the warehouse." Adam held out his own hand and stared at the cigarette burn scars on his palm. "I noticed because I do it sometimes, too."

Danny sighed.

"He was tortured, wasn't he?" Adam asked, nervously. When Danny nodded, the tech asked, "Was it the Irish mob?"

"Russian." The CSI folded his arms again and shook his head. "But it don't matter. They're all assholes." He looked like he wanted to punch somebody.

"Where's Ryan, Danny?" Adam ventured again.

Danny appraised the young man in the flannel shirt and jeans, all wild hair and worried eyes, and made a decision. His brotherly love for Adam, and the vulnerability and concern Adam had shown for Ryan, outweighed the Miami CSI's right to privacy. "He had a panic attack, Adam. He's got OCD and the stress just -" Danny shrugged and his face contorted in anger. "So stupid of me. Never know when to keep my big mouth shut." He smacked the nearest wall and then flashed a look at Adam. The silent cry of pain was so honest and raw that it took both men by surprise, pushing them back to their time in the hospital together after they had been tortured by Irish mobsters.

Adam hesitantly put a hand on his friend's arm. "Whatever you did or said can't be worse than what they did to him, Danny."

Danny allowed the brief moment of physical contact before pulling away. "He was tortured for twelve hours, Adam. Twelve straight hours! All alone, strapped to a chair in a warehouse." He looked into Adam's face, eyes watery, searching for - and finding - understanding. "He never broke. Never gave in. Not once." Danny blinked as he tried to regain his composure. "I don't know if I could do that." Without realizing it, he began to massage the scars on his left hand again. "Ryan held it together as long as he could. But he didn't have nobody to turn to after, you know?" In a softer voice, he added, "No matter how bad the memories are, Adam, we're lucky we got each other."

Adam chewed his lip and nodded before rubbing a tear from one eye.

"Ryan," Danny shook his head. "I don't know why, but he didn't tell no one in Miami what happened. Comes to me instead, all fragile-like. And I broke him, Adam. I broke him." Anguish laced through Danny's words. At the tech's puzzled expression, the man clarified. "I told his boss exactly what happened to him. In detail. Because Ryan never said nothin' to nobody and he shouldn't have to go through that alone. But -" Danny swallowed hard and shook his head. His voice wavered when he spoke next. "I broke his trust, ya know? And then he broke down."

Danny sniffed once; Adam politely pretended that he didn't notice. There was a long silence as both men looked away.

"Why aren't you at the hospital?" Adam finally asked.

The older man's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I broke the kid's trust and then he had a panic attack! It's my fault he landed in the hospital again. He don't want to see me."

"Danny." Adam's voice held more than a hint of determination. "He flew up here because he didn't have anybody else who understood. You did the right thing getting him help. He needs you."

The Italian set his stubborn jaw. "I don't want to make things any worse for him."

Adam shook his head and gave Danny a rueful smile. "Trust me on this. You won't."


	6. Chapter 6

My thanks to Heidi Black 14 for the reviews. :) I appreciate everyone who has favorited or followed this story - it's motivated me to finish it. This chapter should wrap things up, although I may return to this crossover universe sometime. It's been fun.

Not mine, don't own. Any errors are mine. I'm not a medical professional, but I've tried to take good care of Mr. Wolfe.

* * *

Ryan lay on the hospital bed, counting ceiling tiles. Thankfully, visiting hours had finally ended, and Mac had taken Horatio with him. As much as Ryan craved approval from his boss, so much attention from H at once was overwhelming.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Wolfe?"

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Wolfe?"

"Ryan, your job at the lab is secure."

That last statement had led to Mac politely excusing himself to get coffee. Real communication had flowed between the two men from Miami after he had left, and, for that, Ryan was grateful. H had apologized for making Ryan feel as though he had to "man up" and not show any weakness from his Russian ordeal; Ryan told H he was sorry that his boss had to fly to another state to clean up his mess.

"Mr. Wolfe, I've been thinking," H had started, pausing in the middle of a thought as he often did. "You need time off to recover."

Ryan, still attached to a nasal cannula with an IV in his arm, had nodded.

"I think ... it would be an unwise course of action for you to file a Workers' Compensation claim. You would be entitled, of course, since you were still on the clock when you were abducted. But we do not want IAB looking into this. The facts are not in your favor ... and Rick, as you know, is an asshole."

The deadpan way in which H had delivered the line had brought a smile to Ryan's face. The redhead had given him a small smile in return before he tipped his head and looked at his underling with sad eyes. "Mr. Wol - Ryan, I don't want you to worry about this. I'll take care of your medical bills."

"H -" Ryan had begun to protest, but Horatio had held up his hand.

"Mr. Wolfe, I have inadvertently created a work environment in which you don't feel safe asking for help -"

"H, that is not your fault," Ryan had insisted.

Horatio had pursed his lips together and shook his head. "I should have followed up when we couldn't reach you the other night. I thought ... someone else had confirmed you were all right."

Ryan had swallowed hard. "Someone else" would have been Eric or Calleigh. Probably Eric, since they were always butting heads. Which meant that the secret couple had put their newfound relationship ahead of the job. Ahead of his life. The battered CSI could feel tears threatening again, and he had silently cursed himself for being so weak.

H, ever vigilant, had noticed Ryan's reaction and gave the younger man's hand a small squeeze. "When you are well enough to return to work, we need to sit down as a team and talk about this, Mr. Wolfe." Horatio had pulled away to stare at the floor, sighing deeply. "Mistakes were made by all of us, and that nearly cost you your life."

Ryan couldn't disagree with that. He had shifted on the bed to put less pressure on his sore ribs.

"I'm placing you on special assignment, all right? That will hold Rick off for awhile. I'll have the forms faxed up here."

Ryan, recalling all of this now, was on his 348th ceiling tile when he heard a slight creak at the door. His senses immediately went on high alert. The nurses were certainly never this quiet.

"Hello?" he called out, surprised at how creaky his voice sounded. He tried to peer around the curtain drape surrounding most of the bed.

A blond man in tennis shoes and a Yankees cap poked his head into Ryan's space, a finger to his lips. "Shh! I had to bribe a nurse to let me in."

"Danny! What're you doing here?" Ryan struggled to raise himself into a sitting position.

Danny dropped a duffel on the window sill. "Hawkes told me they admitted you. I thought you might want your stuff." He twisted his lips and stared out the window, which, unfortunately, faced a cement wall. "And, I, uh ... I wanted to apologize." Danny shoved his hands into the pockets of jeans and studied the floor as Ryan stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You don't have to do that," Ryan replied, his voice gravelly. "You were just looking out for me. I should be apologizing to you for dragging you in the middle of this." He cleared his throat, awkwardly, and Danny handed him the cup of water that was just out of reach. Ryan took a few sips from the straw before handing it back with a slight cough.

"You doin' all right?" Danny fixed his eyes on Ryan, pinning him with his gaze so that the younger man couldn't squirm out of the question.

Ryan shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He nodded.

"Docs figure anything out yet?" Danny sat on Ryan's bedside chair.

In a quiet voice, Ryan answered, "I bruised my right lung." As Danny's eyes went wide, he added, "It's not bad or anything."

Danny shook his head and grunted. "Not bad, huh? That's why they admitted you to the hospital? On account of you being so healthy and all?"

Ryan swallowed painfully and Danny helped him to get another sip of water. Once he was done drinking, Ryan replied, "I can breathe easier with the oxygen. I didn't realize how bad it was until ... you know."

"You had a panic attack," Danny supplied. He lifted his blue eyes to meet Ryan's glassy hazel ones. The younger man's pupils were blown, a side effect of the pain medication.

Ryan sighed. "Yeah. I wish you hadn't seen that," he admitted.

Danny shrugged. "What? You think nobody's ever flipped out on me before? You ever met my family?" He grinned at Ryan.

The pale young man in the hospital bed smiled. "Thanks for coming by, Danny."

"When they springing you, anyway?" The New Yorker leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the edge of Ryan's bed. Ryan tried not to focus on the potential for dirt to transfer onto his sheets. Given his luck of late, he clearly didn't need to be exposed to anything else.

"Next couple of days, if I'm lucky." As the older man nodded, Ryan said, "You need to recommend a hotel for me."

"You stayin' up here?" Danny raised an eyebrow at him. "Thought you said you an' your boss worked things out."

"We did." Ryan rubbed his left eye and pointed at the duffel. "Hand me the little blue bag in the duffel, would you?" In a flash, Ryan had popped both contact lenses out, squirted saline on them, and placed them in a small, plastic case. Adding a drop to his left eye, he smiled. "That's better." He tucked the contact case and saline back into the blue bag and tried to place it on the nearby table. Danny reached out to help Ryan before the bag dropped to the floor. "Thanks, my eyes were killing me." He blinked at the blurred image of the blond man and thought he saw a smile in return.

"How long you stayin' then?"

Ryan shrugged, a gesture that was surely painful for he winced before he could stop himself. "A week at least. H said he'd cover the hotel."

Danny lifted both eyebrows this time. "You sure? 'Cause my couch is still available."

Ryan shook his head. "Danny, I appreciate it, I really do, but I need some time alone."

"So, what then? You gonna sit in the hotel and watch soaps all day?"

The dark-haired man smiled. "Actually, H talked Mac into letting me work up here for awhile. We've got a subset of cold cases with ties to New York and this is a good time for me to research them."

Danny gawped at him. "How'd you pull that?"

Ryan shrugged. "Horatio feels bad he wasn't there for me -"

"So, he's buying you off with a research trip to New York?" Danny rolled his eyes. "Sounds more like a guilty father than a boss to me."

"Well, if H is the father, then I'm the black sheep of the family. Trouble always follows me." Ryan picked at the bedsheets, but he looked up in surprise when he heard a chuckle.

"Mac says that about me, too. He thinks I got my own personal raincloud." Danny made a face, followed by a wry grin.

Ryan returned the smile. "I guess that's why we're friends."

The blond's voice turned sober. "Good friends, huh?"

Ryan nodded. "Good friends," he repeated, yawning.

Danny stood up. "And that's my cue to leave. You take care of yourself, all right?" He looked down at Ryan. "You got my number. Call me if you need anything."

"I will, Danny," Ryan's voice was slightly slurred. "Thanks for being there for me." His eyes began to slide shut.

"No problem," Danny whispered. "G'night, Ryan. See you at work."


End file.
